


the one where they're in the closet

by orphan_account



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, F/F, Office Party, Smut, boss/employee but not Technically, mention of masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7130675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there’s an office party. it ends the way these things tend to do when you kind of maybe want to sleep with your boss. (featuring: dancing, a closet in the non-metaphorical sense, and sex. also, a very small amount of Feelings.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one where they're in the closet

“To Catco!” someone shouts from across the room, and Kara smiles and raises her champagne along with the crowd around her. It’s the first time she’s been invited to this particular brand of office party--she can only imagine that it’s because of her recent promotion, though Cat had made it seem as if the move was a lot more horizontal than vertical. The gathering’s pretty much what she had expected: important people, lots of booze, superficial conversation. They’ve reached the point in the evening where everyone’s mostly just shouting toasts at random, and the head of the PR department has started to dance a little closer to his partner than might be appropriate for a work-related function.

Kara, meanwhile, has been looking longingly toward the exit for the past hour now. It’s late, and she doesn’t really know enough people to be able to circulate--Winn and James both had other commitments, so she’d taken an aide she’d met through delivering layouts as her date, who is now chatting up a very pretty brunette over by the punch bowl. She doesn’t even know why  _ she’d  _ come, exactly, except that when Cat had delivered her invitation she’d done it in person, that familiar closed-mouth smile lingering around her lips.  _ You should come, Kara _ , she’d tossed out (and Kara will never, ever tire of hearing her name pronounced correctly, still gets a flare in the pit of her stomach when she hears Cat say it with those ridiculously over-enunciated consonants),  _ you’ve worked hard this year _ . And then she’d leaned over Kara’s new desk--just close enough for Kara to catch a hint of musky perfume--and said,  _ save me a dance. _

So. That was pretty much it, in terms of decision making.

Cat still hasn’t come to claim her dance, though; she’s over making conversation with some of their top investors. Kara doubts Cat would notice if she left. She could walk out of here, go home. Watch a few episodes of  _ The West Wing _ with Alex. Eat pizza. Forget about the promise of a dance with Cat, of getting to put her hand on Cat’s shoulder, her waist. Of being close to Cat for the first time since her promotion.

Because Cat’s been strange since Kara moved into her new office. Not--distant, exactly; she still comes to Kara for advice or to complain about her newest assistant (whose name is Olivia, and who she consistently calls Olivia. Not that Kara’s been paying attention). But she’s different, less demanding. She gives Kara so much freedom that Kara barely knows what to do with it. She hasn’t asked for an interview with Supergirl in months. Sometimes, Kara can hear her just standing outside the door for a few seconds, holding her breath as she debates whether to come in. 

(She never does.)

Anyway,  _ that’s _ why Kara’s keeping an eye on Cat tonight, because she wants to see if her behavior’s changed around other people, too. It’s not because of the pink ( _ salmon _ , Winn would tell her) silk dress Cat’s wearing, and it’s certainly not because of the way her calves, accentuated by what look like obscenely expensive heels, stand out in the light. Or the way her fingers keep delicately stroking the stem of her champagne flute--

Sometimes, Kara really wishes she could get drunk. Buzzed, even.

She spots a junior editor heading towards her and ducks behind the snack buffet. She’s leaving in ten minutes, she decides. It’s late. The dance definitely isn’t happening. If she gets home by one, there’ll still be cookie dough in the fridge.

“Can I help you?” comes Cat’s voice from directly behind her ear, and Kara jumps, knocking two plates of sad-looking shrimp cocktails to the floor with a huge clatter.

“Miss Grant!” She’s flustered now, bent nearly double to try to collect the fallen dishes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Oh, leave it.” Cat waves a dismissive hand. “Someone will it clean up later.”

“Right,” Kara says, straightening. “Um, I was actually just leaving.”

“Don’t you remember what I asked you to do?”

“Well...yes, but I figured--you looked busy, over there, and--”

“Kara.”

“Yes, Miss Grant.”

“Dance with me.”

“Okay,” Kara says, and she’s suddenly being led to the center of the dance floor by her former (current?) boss. Cat’s palm is hot in hers. There’s a tightness in her throat that is definitely a result of the shrimp cocktail sauce.

They dance. Cat leads, of course, pulling Kara’s hand to her shoulder as she slowly maneuvers them in a circle. It’s too much and just enough, Cat’s hand prickling on Kara’s waist and Kara’s breath rough against Cat’s neck and their faces inches apart. Kara forgets how to move for a second, steps on Cat’s foot, and Cat  _ giggles _ , murmuring, “you’d think gracefulness would come with your particular...skill set.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Kara says archly. Cat’s mouth quirks up at the side and their rhythm’s back at last, and Cat lets her spin once before pulling her back and dipping her low.

Kara’s breathless when she comes up. She wonders if this is what being drunk feels like, heady and reckless. “People are staring,” she whispers. 

“Let them,” Cat says, and dips her again.

 

-

 

The song ends. Kara extricates herself from Cat’s grasp, suddenly self-conscious. “I should go,” she says.

“Yes, you should.” Cat’s gaze is steady, warm.

“I’ll just...get my coat, then. From the closet.” She doesn’t know what she’s doing, exactly.  _ Brazen _ , she remembers,  _ that’s a new look on you _ .

“Of course.”

Kara goes to the coat closet. She leans her head against the door and counts to ten. The spot on her waist where Cat’s hand rested is still tingling faintly.

She shakes her head, starts to fumble with the hanger. The door clicks behind her. She thinks she hears the slight scratch of the lock.

“Is this what you meant?” says Cat from behind her. A hand traces the back of her neck. “Is this what you wanted,  _ Kara _ ?”

“God, yes,” Kara says roughly, and she turns and they’re kissing, hard and dirty and messy. Kara tries to push Cat against the wall but Cat laughs and does something too fast for Kara to follow and suddenly her back is pressing into the door and Cat’s leg is shoved up between hers and Cat’s teeth are nipping at her jawline and she’s on  _ fire _ .

“Not...allowed,” she pants.

“I’m not your direct supervisor anymore,” Cat reminds her, threading a hand through her hair.

“Is that why you--”

Cat huffs out a frustrated breath and lifts her leg a half inch higher; Kara moans, squirming into the added pressure. “No, this isn’t why I promoted you--can you  _ please  _ stop worrying for a second and just--”

“Someone will hear us.”

“They’re all drunk and desperate not to go home,” Cat says, and it’s the truth, Kara knows it’s the truth.

And fuck, she wants this, she’s wanted it for a long time and Cat’s  _ here _ , Cat’s looking at her like she’d beg if Kara asked her to, like she’d burn down the world if Kara asked her to, and Kara is so, so tired of holding back.

“Okay,” she says, “yes,  _ yes _ ,” and she kisses Cat again, hungry, wild. Cat rips down the zipper at the back of her dress. Cat’s own dress has somehow gotten hiked up to her waist and Kara pushes her right leg forward; she wants to make Cat feel as good as Cat’s making her feel, wants to please her.

Cat shudders and leans down to suck at Kara’s pulse point as she pulls Kara’s head farther back. Kara digs her nails into Cat’s shoulders and lets the top of her dress fall to her waist.

“ _ Look  _ at you,” Cat says, reverent, reaching up to twist Kara’s nipple. Kara has to remind herself to hiss with pain, except that Cat’s look turns calculating and she’s suddenly pinching harder and Kara gasps because the pain is real now, something’s clicked into place and she can  _ feel it _ . 

“Fuck,” she stutters out, “Cat, please--”

“So beautiful,” Cat murmurs, “so good for me.”

“ _ Yes _ .”

Cat shifts so she’s between both of Kara’s legs and pulls until Kara’s dress and underwear are pooled at her feet. She lifts Kara’s calf so it’s pressed up against her, so Kara’s spread and waiting, aching for her. Kara whines and Cat reaches a single finger to trace the edges of her sex.

“God, I missed you,” she says, and Kara’s hips jerk at the words. “Do you know how many times I sat in my office thinking about you at your new desk? How easy it would be to bend you over it, to take you right there in the building?”

“Cat,” Kara moans.

“The walls are soundproofed, you know. Did you know that? Did you ever get yourself off in there, Kara?”

Kara tries to speak and fails, reaches down to move Cat’s hand to where she needs it and lets out a strangled gasp as Cat pins both her wrists to the wall in response.

“I think you did. I think you thought about me saying  _ anything you want _ and you came right there in your new chair with your dress hiked up and your fist in your mouth.” Cat’s paused, hand still hovering between her legs. Exquisite, unbearable torture. “Tell me, Kara.”

“I--” Kara can’t think, can’t focus on anything but the building pressure. “ _ Yes _ , fuck, I kept thinking about you, about pleasing you with my mouth, my hands--”

Cat groans, deep.

“I got so  _ wet _ , Cat, god--”

“My girl,” Cat says, voice so rough it almost cracks, and she thrusts into Kara with two fingers, matching the movement of her hips, spreading her wetness around and adding a third. Kara’s full, stuck in the position Cat’s holding her, and  _ oh _ , it’s good. She’d known it would be good with Cat but it’s so different when it’s real, when Cat’s whispering all the things she wants to do to Kara in her ear and thumbing just next to her clit and twisting her nipples so there’s always a hint of pain with the overpowering pleasure. Cat finds that spot inside her and crooks her fingers, scissors them.

“Oh,” Kara pants, “I’m close, please--” She doesn’t know how she knows that Cat wants her to wait, only that she does, and the idea of it brings her even closer to the edge.

“Kara,” Cat croons, “so perfect. Look at you spread for me, begging for me.”

“Yes, Cat, please--please, I need--”

“Just a little more. You can take it, can’t you?”

Kara rolls her hips in useless frustration. She’s throbbing, empty except for one wish, but Cat thinks she can take it. Cat wants her to wait.

The point comes--it could be seconds later or minutes later, she honestly has no idea--when she’s hovering at the edge and staying there, suspended just before the moment of freefall, and her mind is clear except for Cat’s voice ( _ not yet, not yet _ ) and her body has crystallized into one sensation, and Cat--

Cat lifts her leg, finds a new angle, pinches her clit, and says, low and sweet, “Come, Kara.”

Kara falls apart. That’s the only way she can describe it, every bit of tension in her muscles releasing as her hips stutter against Cat’s fingers, soaking them. She forgets to be quiet and Cat captures her mouth, draws out her orgasm with small touches until it’s all too much and Kara has to push her away.

“Um,” she says, looking up at Cat with a slightly loopy smile from her position on the floor. “That was…”

“Yes.” 

Kara’s warm and there’s still a current of need in Cat’s expression and she inches forward until she’s kneeling at Cat’s feet. “Now you,” she says.

“We have to be fast,” says Cat. “People will be leaving soon.”

Kara’s always been good at obeying instructions.

She rises slightly, brace herself against Cat’s thighs, and buries her face in Cat’s sex, licking a wide stripe up and then focusing her attention on Cat’s clit. Cat’s holding her in place with just the right amount of force--Kara can hold her breath for much longer than humans, anyway, and she’s suddenly grateful for the skill--and making these breathy little noises as she grinds helplessly in Kara’s mouth.

Kara knows she’s good at this, knows people don’t expect it from looking at her. But she knows how to read people: their movements, their sounds. She knows what people need and she knows how to give it to them, and, most of all, she  _ likes  _ giving it to them.

Cat needs it fast and hard, needs to stay in control even now. Kara has no intention of disappointing her.

She dips her tongue into Cat, savors the taste of her for a moment, and then sucks gently on her clit, steadying her hips. Cat sucks in a breath. She’s toying with her own breasts now and it’s one of the most erotic things Kara’s ever seen.

“I’m gonna--Kara, now--” and Kara  _ gets  _ it, moves her hands down to spread Cat apart and sucks harder, uses just enough teeth to get her point across until Cat comes with a muffled shout that sounds like  _ mine _ .

Kara stands up. Cat squeezes her chin and kisses her, tastes herself on Kara’s lips. “We need to get out of here,” she says languidly.

“Right,” says Kara. “Yeah.” She shimmies back into her dress, determinedly avoiding Cat’s eyes as she does the same. “I’ll...go first, if you want, and then--”

“Okay.” Cat looks at her then. “Do you want to talk about this?”

“Um,” Kara laughs, “not really? I mean--I get it, it can never happen again, and, you know, that’s fine--”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh,” Kara says, meeting her eyes. “ _ Oh _ .”

“Come to dinner tomorrow. My house. Carter’s at his dad’s.”

Kara thinks about it for a second, thinks about the way Cat bites the end of her pen when she’s concentrating and the way she drops jars of m&m’s at Kara’s door when there’s a deadline coming up. The way she looks at Carter, soft, vulnerable. The way her mouth falls open when she comes. The way she smiles at Supergirl and the way she smiles at Kara and the way that lately, those two have become almost the same.

(The way she dances, like she never wants to let go.)

“Yes,” she says.

( _ And Cat? _ she’ll whisper later as they say goodnight, guests filtering out into the cold air.  _ Come by if you ever want to test just how soundproof those walls are _ .)

**Author's Note:**

> anyways this is kinda short and unedited but it happened
> 
> if you wanna talk about the fic or supercat or whatever hmu on [tumblr](http://danversgranted.tumblr.com)!


End file.
